


Mundane

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-15
Updated: 2009-09-15
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:59:02
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: All the little mundane stuff that needs to be done....sometimes are the things that give the best memories.A few little shorts, nothing spoilery...just for fun. **





	1. Rose on your piano

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

The bell over the door jingled. He didn't have to look up to know it was Dean. He also didn't have to look up to know that Dean was carrying coffee with him.  He was putting the last of the wash into a huge dryer when a cup was offered to him.  He couldn't help chuckling. God, they were so domestic and predictable.

"What's so funny, College Boy?"

"You, Dumbass."

"Didn't they teach you any better come backs than that in that fancy school of yours? Jesus, thank god I sprung ya from that place before they completely whipped all the Winchester charm outta you."

The easy way that they could rib each other was one thing that made this just...work. No questions, no games...it just WAS. Over the years they had fallen into this life. On the hunt, it was loud and messy. There was bound to be blood, cursing, fighting, death. Once that was over, this strange domestic middle ground. They might not have an address, a place that was their own to lay their heads but that didn't mean they didn't have a home. Their home had always just been the other one and their concept of home was one they would defend to their last breath.

Sometimes it was hard to remember in the thrill and madness of a hunt that there were always little things to be done. Oil changes for Dean's baby. Haircuts for the two of them. Laundry to be done. Clothes to buy to replace all the countless shirts or jeans that were torn or bloodied. It was in those mundane tasks that they found respite, alittle piece of comfort and each other.

They finished the laundry, easy laughs being exchanged....many waggling eyebrowns and the general antics. They finished and headed back to the hotel.

"So, there's a pizza place down the street. I can go pick up something if you want."

"Nah, I'll go with you. Let's sit like civilized people, Sammy. I'll even close my mouth when I chew."

"Awwwwwww, Dean. What a heartwarming gesture. I thought this day would never come."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Eat me Sammy."

"You only wish, big brother, you only wish."

These were the times that were just good for their souls, a respite. It was easy to forget all the wrongs, all the reasons why they were just fucked up and fucked over. Who needed an address when you had this? Who even had this easy kinda of just being a couple? He and Dean, that's who. Sam loved their messy, fucked up life. 

They talked easily over dinner. Dean reached over, grabbed Sam's glass, filling it from the pitcher the waitress brought. Sam put pizza on Dean's plate, picking the pieces that looked the best. Dean handed him a napkin. It was all so automatic, they never even noticed the ways they took care of each other.

They picked up a 12 pack on their way back to the hotel. He sat with his back against the padded headboard watching whatever campy 80's flick the remote landed on. He watched as Dean took the clean clothes and gingerly packed them in Sam's duffel. He got up wordlessly and grabbed two beers. He took the caps off and flicked one at Dean's head then handed over a dewy cold bottle.

"Jackoff."

"Request? Order? Or what you're gonna be doing later if you don't just leave that laundry alone, Martha Stewart?" Sam quipped.

Dean grabbed him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. "You're lucky that you're a freakishly tall fucker Sammy or I'd really be tempted to kick your ass sometimes."

They settled in the bed, drawing on their beers. He felt Dean's fingers on his hand, cold from the condensation wrapped around the beer bottle. Running up and down wordlessly, easy. Fingers made their way to the inside of his elbow, up his bicep. Dean's foot hooked over his leg. There was this place that was just Sam and Dean. Dean fit against his side.....just fit there, made to be there. They could lay here with no questions between them, no doubt.

"Hey Dean?"

"Hrmmmm Sammy?"

"What's better than a rose on your piano?"

Dean flashed that patented "Dean" grin.

"Tulips on your organ?"

Dean had taught him that joke when he was just 8 or 9, they had laughed so hard, they cried. Dad had come in and told them if they didn't shut their traps that he was going to make them sleep in the snow. They had laughed even harder.

"God you're such a geek Sammy."

He slept well that night wrapped up in Dean but knew they would soon be on the road to the next town, the next fight. One thing he knew was as good as they were at loving, they were just as good at pushing each other to the edge. You didn't walk away from this love, this life unscathed. That much was always certain.

 

 

 

 


	2. Topeka

Dean had a small line of sweat above his upper lip. He had given up on even considering wearing his soft, worn t-shirt in this heat. His tanned back glistened slick with sweat. He was bent over the hood of the impala, grease smudges covering the front of the legs of his jeans.   
  
"22."  
  
Dean glanced up at Sam who was sitting a couple yards away under a tree. A book sat abandoned on his lap.  
  
"Huh? What'n the hells that mean Sammy? Number of dirty looks I get to give you if you don't get your ass over here with a beer for me?"  
  
Sam grabbed 2 bottles from cooler full of half melted ice. He tucked both of the icy bottles under his arm and easily twisted off the tops, handing one to Dean.  
  
"Number of times Dad tried to settle us into some sort of legitimate life. 22. I counted."  
  
Dean's eyebrow shot up. "Sam. Don't take this the wrong way but damn you gotta get a hobby."  
  
"I have one. Giving this hot guy down the block bj's everyday so shut your ass Dean." He winked in his brothers eyesight. "Remember that place in Georgia?"  
  
Dean choked back a laugh and decided to swallow the beer in his mouth rather than spit it all over Sam's shirt.  
"Christ. The DOG! Giant red bow and all. Christmas '89."  
  
Sam guffawed. "Our first encounter with a Hell Hound. Shoes didn't stand a chance against Buster the wonder dog."  
  
  
"Remember Dad chasing that thing around the front yard chucking his shredded shoes at it's head? God, he was so friggin' pissed."  
  
"He was more pissed at you for calling Bobby to see if you should splash holy water on the shoe eatin' freak or Dad first." Sam reminded him.  
  
"Hey! I was what, 10, what did I know?"  
  
He laughed again while reaching to wipe a spot of grease from Dean's cheek.  
  
"The best was Dad crawling through Old Lady Johnsons overgrown back yard at 2 o'clock in the morning, dragging poor Buster by the leash to leave him tied to her back porch."  
  
"He had us packed in under an hour flat, cursing the whole time. Ahhh man, poor Dad." Dean lamented, "Hey remember Wilkes Barre?"  
  
"M-huh. You taught me how to change the oil in the Impala and gave me my first beer."  
  
"Beer, eh? I seem to remember beers. Plural. I had raided Dad's stash then had to hustle pool for a week trying to replace what you drank, ya lush."  
  
"You told me you were studying with Ashley Wilson that week. What the hell?" Sam grinned.  
  
"Who?"  
  
Sam glanced over to see if Dean was joking. "Dean....Ashley. Wilson. THE Ashley Wilson? Head cheerleader, blond, boobs. All the guys wanted to get in her pants and she only looked at you? Ring any bells?"  
  
There was a sudden flash of recognition in Dean's eyes and then a flush to his cheeks. He ducked his head.  
  
"You mean that girl that was always coming around my senior year? Sam, that poor girl stripped down naked for me one day but I didn't do a damn thing with her." He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand, "Couldn't. Was in love with you."  
  
When he lifted his eyes to meet Sam's a little hesitation played in those perfectly emerald irises. Dean had this way of making Sam feel like every cheesy heroine in every sappy movie ever made. He cupped Dean's chin in his hands and pressed hard to his lips. He didn't think he would ever tire of the taste or feel of drawing Dean in. It was leather, sweat and peppermint. Dean had this body chemistry that pulled things around him in and made them all his own. Today it was grass, grease and the smell of a summer breeze. It never failed to give him butterflies in his stomach, same thing since he was a kid. Home.  
  
Dean broke the kiss with a light chuckle, "God. We are girls, big blubbering GIRLS, Sam."  
  
"Topeka."  
  
Wordlessly, Dean reached up and shut the hood on the Impala. He threw Sam a grin and sunk on his back into the grass under the shade tree. He patted the ground next to him, effectively calling Sam over to him. They laid, legs crossed over the ankles heads propped on crossed arms.  
  
"Topeka, eh?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah. Topeka." He answered with a lazy drawl in his voice.  
  
"Thats easy. First time I kissed you. Best day of my life, by far. We were watching that cheesy Blair Witch Project because you had begged to see it. You were 16, right?"  
  
Sam flashed a huge toothy smile, "Yeah. 16. You gonna tell me what I was wearing too?"  
  
Dean propped himself up on an elbow so he could look directly at Sam. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Your favorite jeans. The ones with the little hole over the left knee and a torn cuff on the right. Doc Martens, black. My old Zeppelin shirt. You didn't want to move again and had just had a huge fight with Dad." He laid back with a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Oh! And you were drinking cherry Kool-aid."   
  
"Nice. Very impressive. 'Course, I remember that but I remember a few other things."  
  
"Oh this should be good. What does my geek kid brother remember?" Dean playfully winked in Sam's direction.  
  
"Let's see. I remember you had just showered before the movie and your hair was still wet. You had a new kinda shampoo and it was....coconut I think, smelled really good. Your aftershave was really woodsy, earthy. You always have known just how much to put on too. Never too little, never overwhelming. You weren't feeling great but you didn't want me to know. You were running a little fever but I didn't mind because it was snowing out." He chuckled.  
  
"Topeka. Topeka was good. Hey Sam? Can I tell you something as long as you don't give me a rash of shit about it?"  
  
"Sure Dean. Anything."  
  
"You know why I was scared to kiss you that night wasn't ever because of the whole "Oh no. This is wrong...he's my brother" thing. We'd seen enough fucked up stuff by then that I figured "what the hell". It was more about the fact that you are my best friend, Sammy and I didn't ever want to lose that."   
  
The great thing about Dean and him was that they knew what to say and when to say it for the most part. His heart wanted to get even more mushy and sappy than they had been so far but he knew that Dean would appreciate a gentle ribbing more.  
  
"Dean? Exactly how many episodes of Oprah have you snuck in behind my back? Confess."  
  
"Ok a few but whatever Sammy....I'm learning to get in touch with my inner girl. In a few simple weeks, Samantha, I should be on par with you."   
  
"Bitch."  
  
"Jeeeeerk."


End file.
